


The Weight of Darkness

by deviouskirin



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Kind of dark, possession or something like it maybe?, vague references to gore and violence, vaguely influenced by supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 04:10:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2454248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deviouskirin/pseuds/deviouskirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It always starts this way, with a tortured scream ringing in her ears until she realizes that it’s coming from <i>her</i>, that she’s the one making all that god awful noise...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weight of Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this for a 'zine my friend had to put together for a final project (English majors have the coolest finals), and I kind of really liked it? This is the first non-fandom thing I've ever written (that wasn't a paper of some kind) so uh...any an all criticism and feedback welcome?

The scream cuts off as it filters through her brain that she’s- she’s not _awake_ , but at least aware again. It always starts this way, with a tortured scream ringing in her ears until she realizes that it’s coming from _her_ , that she’s the one making all that god awful noise. Every single time, it takes her by surprise that her human vocal chords are capable of such a horrible sound.

 

She strains her eyes, trying futilely to see something in the heavy shadows that fill this place. It’s not even really an absence of light, she doesn’t think, so much as it is an all-encompassing darkness, one that presses in on her as if it has mass and weight, a measurable volume. Same as every other time, her efforts are in vain, and she does nothing more than give herself an echo of a migraine.

 

Unlike every horror story she’s ever read, there’s no ‘it all started when’ for this dark hell. She can’t even remember how long it’s been happening, or how often she comes to in this place. From what little she’s been able to recall when she puts her mind to it here in this void, there’s no rhyme or reason to when or where it happens, no obvious trigger she can suss out.

 

Only when she’s here can she even think about what’s going on. Out in the real world, she knows _something_ weird is going on in her life. She can’t put her finger on it, but it’s familiar. The closest she can come to it is when you stop before crossing the road, because of a nebulous feeling of doom that tells you something isn’t right. It’s not until the darkness that it all starts to come back, instances of things being just slightly off, a few degrees left of center.

 

Standing in a room she doesn’t remember walking into, unable to mentally retrace her steps no matter how hard she tries. Blinking, only to realize it’s somehow later than she thinks it should be, given what she can recall of her day. Finding things in her hand when there was nothing there before, or vice versa. It’s been getting worse, too, because lately she’s noticed the browsing history on her computer has been cleared out for no reason she can discern, and the odometer of her car never reads what she thinks it should.

 

At least she seems to still be capable of higher cognitive functions, she thinks with dark humor. It would suck to die and be unaware of it.

*

_The dogs in Chris’s yard snarl and snap as she walks by, lunging at her from the other side of the fence. She smirks, and blows them a kiss._

*

“Hey, you okay?” Jess asks, sliding into the seat across from her. “You look like shit.”

 

“Not sleeping much,” she murmurs into her third coffee of the morning. “Midterms.”

 

It rings false to her, but Jess nods in commiseration, and leaves it at that.

*

_He crosses the street in a hurry, glancing over his shoulder with a confused frown, unsure what it is about her that has him so disconcerted. If she didn’t have places to be, she’d explain it to him in vivid, beautiful detail._

*

Something’s different. When she comes to in the darkness, her throat is raw from screaming. Until now, she’s never felt anything while here, a detached type of numbness settling over her body and weighing her down. It’s not a change she can say she appreciates, and a tendril of fear winds itself through her, because change? Probably isn’t a good thing when it comes to whatever this is.

 

Her limbs are heavy, feeling like she’s trying to move through molasses, but she manages to get a hand up to her throat, rubbing at it in a futile attempt to ease the pain. There’s something sticky on her fingers though, quickly drying and pulling her skin tight. She can’t see what it is, but there’s a dark scent in the air, something familiar that turns her stomach, but before she can put a name to it-

 

“-damn it!” she hisses, rubbing at her elbow and glaring at her bathroom door. She’s going to have a nice line of bruises up her arm, she’s run into the stupid thing so many times this week. The breeze tickles across her damp neck, sending a shiver down her spine, and she flips off the light.

 

Exhaustion settles heavily across her shoulders, cracking her jaw around a massive yawn. A heavy tickle sits in the back of her throat as she slides into bed, probably a precursor to a stress cold. She rubs sleepily at her throat, knowing it won’t help ease the pain, but unable to stop herself.

*

_The days are warm, but there’s an unseasonable bite to the air at night. She turns her face into the wind, staring up into the vast expanse of space until she can feel the earth moving beneath her feet. It makes her feel small and insignificant in the grand scheme of things, watching the universe shimmer so high above her head, which never fails to make her laugh, long and loud and deep._

_If only the stars could see and hear, they would be her witnesses. Were they able to speak, she would have their testimony. Would that they could feel, she would take their tears with joy._

*

Kevin corners her after their psych class, concern pulling down the corners of his mouth as he asks if she’s okay, if there’s anything he can do to help. She sways on her feet, head spinning as darkness creeps in at the edges of her vision. Everything feels muted, but she manages to dredge up enough energy to convince him she’ll be fine after a restful weekend.

 

He buys it, even if she doesn’t.

 

Nothing feels real anymore, nothing but the tired ache in her bones and the shadows around her that keep getting deeper and deeper.

*

_The taste of copper and salt is thick in the air, along with the sharp tang of electricity dancing across her tongue. The warmth spills through her fingers, running in rivers across her skin. She feels content to her bones, giddy with it, and_ she spins until she falls, unable to contain her joy.

*

There is blood on her hands. It’s turning tacky as it dries, but when she scrapes at it all she feels is clean skin. She _screams into the darkness._


End file.
